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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295592">Can I Be Your Groupie?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelotusflower/pseuds/thelotusflower'>thelotusflower</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, BOTTOM CRAIG RIGHTS YALL, Band Fic, Blow Jobs, Bottom Craig, Bottom Craig Tucker, Creek Secret Santa (South Park), M/M, Meet-Cute, Smut, confident tweek, flustered craig, i guess, idk what else to tag...</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:41:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelotusflower/pseuds/thelotusflower</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig expects a shitty night when his best friend begs him to manage the equipment for their show. He hasn't heard his best friend’s band play before but he has complete lack of trust in any band his best friend is part of. This all changes when he sees how <i>hot</i> the keyboardist is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(background), Clyde Donovan/Kenny McCormick, Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>sp creek server secret santa 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Can I Be Your Groupie?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luces/gifts">Luces</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, Luces! Merry Christmas ❤️ I hope that you enjoy this! I look up to your smut writing abilities so I really hope that this is OK, I am definitely not a professional 😂 </p><p>Also I know this is early but I'm impatient, and it's 3 hours until Christmas where I am so I figured why not. Thanks again to discord and xenolith1245 for putting this together. Also, always thank you to jewboykahl and ambercreek95 for helping me with this and beta reading. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s 3 am when Clyde bursts into his room and says, “Craig, will you come to our show tomorrow? Butters has to go to his parents’ house for the weekend, and shit, and we </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>need someone to help out with the equipment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig throws a middle finger up, “fuck off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde does not take offense, advancing instead and taking a seat right next to the raven-haired boy’s head. “Dude, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Clyde begs, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>please, please, please, please, please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig rolls his face into his pillow and groans out, “It’s fucking the middle of the night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just got home —cmon,  </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have fucking class in like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>few </span>
  </em>
  <span>hours,” Craig muffles into the pillow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s only 3, don’t be dramatic, and that’s your own fault for signing up for a Friday class.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave me the fuck alone,” Craig pushes the brunette away. The brunette though, is sturdy and stable. Craig’s lanky arm has nothing on his stocky build, so he pretty much stays in place, seated on the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was my job to find someone else, and I completely forgot until now!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please </span>
  </em>
  <span>Craig!” Clyde whines, shaking the shoulders of the dark-haired male in bed. “I’ve already fucked up so many times. They are going to kick me </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig turns on his side to look  his pleading and pathetic friend in the eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re in a band with a bunch of assholes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t assholes! I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cartman </span>
  </em>
  <span>can be, but the other two are </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice and —,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God dammit, fine, I’ll do it. Get out of my room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde does something that resembles a squeal and picks up the other boy’s face and kisses him on the head, to which Craig kicks him in the leg for. “Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>touch me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde ruffles the top of his head as he snickers, “you’re the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>best, </span>
  </em>
  <span>dude, thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig rolls his eyes as his annoying best friend leaves his room. With a groan, he adjusts his head on his pillow and goes back to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>X.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the next’s day class comes and goes, Craig prepares his evening to be filled with Clyde’s shitty band.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has never actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>heard </span>
  </em>
  <span>them play, but honestly, imagining his best friend in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rock </span>
  </em>
  <span>band was hard to do. Clyde grew up listening to </span>
  <em>
    <span>One Direction</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ariana Grande. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Senior year of high school, he learned how to play guitar to impress some girl, and now suddenly he plays bass in a band called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anarchy Order. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It is laughable to Craig to picture his goofy, stupid friend is in such an </span>
  <em>
    <span>edgy </span>
  </em>
  <span>sounding band. It just doesn’t fucking compute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s met one member of the band before, and also the seemingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>reason</span>
  </em>
  <span> Clyde joined the band; Kenny McCormick. While Clyde denies being bisexual, Craig thinks it is pretty fucking clear he is, and that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>has a fat crush on his fellow band member.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He met Kenny once, in their apartment, and while Craig thinks he is positively infuriating, Kenny </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>pretty hot. Pretty much everything he says is some form of flirtation, and it’s far too much for his </span>
  <em>
    <span>“straight” </span>
  </em>
  <span>best friend to handle. Clyde is a huge fucking mess around him from what he’s seen; flustered and stumbling; a complete </span>
  <em>
    <span>disaster.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s rather embarrassing for Clyde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde warns him of the guy named </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cartman, </span>
  </em>
  <span>claiming Craig will hate him, but he gives him </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>warning of the extremely hot but also simultaneously </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute </span>
  </em>
  <span>other blonde of the group. He stares at him as he looks down at his electric keyboard, pressing a couple of the keys. He falls into a trance upon looking at him. He has an assortment of tattoos on his thin slightly muscular arms and an assortment of different piercings; several on his ears, and one on his eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig is taken away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He actually comes to a halt in his step, and Clyde looks at him with confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dude — </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clyde smirks, “you like Tweek, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tweek?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s Tweek,” he nods to the blonde a few feet away, hopefully out of hearing range, “and if you like him now, just wait til’ you see him perform. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>comes alive then,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig continues to stare in complete and utter awe; his stomach twisting. The blonde male’s tongue sticks out slightly as he fiddles with the electric keyboard. Craig watches, wishing that tongue was sliding over his lips instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the blonde picks his head up and catches his stare. Craig sucks in a quick breath, immediately glancing away and continuing further. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>hopes it was not obvious that he was just staring for a good thirty seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he gets into close proximity of the band, he spots the large, fat brunette as well. He immediately recognizes him as Cartman. Cartman notices him, and says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“finally, </span>
  </em>
  <span>god, fucking where the hell have you been?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the first time Craig has ever met this fat ass and he is talking to him in this way before even a formal introduction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need you to do a sound check — you know how to do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God fucking Dammit, Clyde — you fucking idiot, God, this imbecile doesn’t even know how to do a sound check?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, fat boy. Be grateful I’m even here,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Grateful? Why the fuck would I be grateful? Grateful for what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig holds back an eye roll, and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>suddenly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>another voice cuts in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll show you,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks over. It’s the blonde — Tweek. He feels a wave of nerves rush over him. “Uh, okay. Thanks, glad to know your band isn’t full of total </span>
  <em>
    <span>assholes,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he shoots a glare at the the fat boy by the microphone stand. He flips him off for good measure before turning his eyes to the blonde.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye! Fuck you. I run this band, thank you very much, and the rest of ‘em are assholes, I’m the least bit asshole!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig just ignores him as the blonde trots down the stage and hops down in front of him. With him now on the same elevation as him, he can see that the blonde is a couple inches taller. The blonde gives him a side glance as he continues to walk past him and to the other side of the bar venue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig follows him, feeling as though his knowledge of the English language has suddenly gone awry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Sorry for Cartman,” the blonde says, “we don’t claim him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig’s lips rise to a smile. “Uh. It’s okay. Clyde warned me about him… Thanks for showing me, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek gives him another side glance, this time with a wide smile, “of course. Besides it gives me some time to flirt before Kenny does.” Craig immediately goes flush with crimson. He opens his mouth to argue that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kenny </span>
  </em>
  <span>is definitely not the person he has eyes on, but once again, his voice fails him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They arrive at the table with the foreign recording equipment on top and Craig is immensely grateful for the blonde’s kindness as he has no clue what any of this stuff even is. As if the comment before did not even occur, Tweek teaches him how to do a soundcheck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cartman, from his place on stage, taps the mic, and says, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>alright, good job, gaywads, I guess it’s working.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, the fat boy turns around to look at Clyde, “hey, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit for brains, </span>
  </em>
  <span>play something — see if it takes more than two fags to turn on the sound.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde does as he is told, strumming a few strings of his bass guitar — the sound vibrating from the speakers next to him and Tweek. Craig raises a middle finger up to Cartman for the second time in the last five minutes and says, “You still sound awful, just to let you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde frowns at him and shouts, “Can’t you ever just be supportive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig ignores him and turns to the blonde beside him. “Thank you for showing me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re very welcome. Thanks for being such an eyepiece,” and then, with a wink and a smirk, the blonde floats away, leaving Craig by the equipment. He watches him saunter away and back on stage to his electric piano, wishing he knew what to say back — hoping by the next time he flirts, he’ll actually have an adequate response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig is about to ask what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>he is supposed to do next when someone else, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kenny</span>
  </em>
  <span>, walks through the bar entrance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks slightly hungover, sunglasses over his eyes and hair a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Heyo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, friends!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kenny — you fucking poor bastard — </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re goddamn late.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny waves him off, “oh relax, fat boy, I’m sure you survived the two minutes without me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, goddamn Butters and his stupid parents, and goddamn Clyde, and his imbecile friend, I’m so </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick </span>
  </em>
  <span>and tired of being the only </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddamn </span>
  </em>
  <span>intellectual ‘round here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re far from it,” he responds to Cartman. The dirty blonde sizes Craig up, and pulls down his sunglasses to wink at him. “Hello, Clyde’s imbecile friend. Nice to see you again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig rolls his eyes, and says, “it’s fucking Craig.” The last time he encountered Kenny, he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>quit with the incessant flirting. Clyde actually seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>jealous </span>
  </em>
  <span>even though it was obvious the dirty blonde flirted with just about everyone — except maybe Cartman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny jumps onto the stage and Tweek blows a kiss to him which Craig frowns at. Kenny pretends to catch it and smack it on his ass, before stepping over to Clyde. “Ayo, buddy,” he slings an arm over his shoulder, “how is my </span>
  <em>
    <span>favorite </span>
  </em>
  <span>brunette with the first name starting with </span>
  <em>
    <span>C </span>
  </em>
  <span>doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig can spot Clyde’s blush from here. He rolls his eyes internally at his friend’s obvious crushing and bisexuality denial. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cartman cries out, “Aye! Kenny, fucking traitor. You’re supposed be my BFF. Fucking give me that goddamn necklace back you dim-wit slut!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny waves him off, and just grins at the flustered male besides him.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Ken, I’m good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look good, you been working out?” Kenny’s hand trails down his arm and squeezes his bicep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ha he ha, yeah, maybe a little…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig rolls his eyes. Clyde is truly something else. He reverts his eyes to the blonde who lets out a huff of laughter on the other side of the stage. He has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> cute laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The band continues to get on his nerves, besides Tweek, who mostly stays out of their bull shit, and focuses on his piano keys. He seems concentrated and focused, playing out small bits of tunes every so often.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is forced to help Kenny gather his equipment from his car, which consists of an amp and a guitar. They also force him to set up their CD collection. Craig is not sure why this Butters guy does this shit for them for free, but he is convinced he must want to bone one of them or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the show time grows closer and the band begins to prepare, he takes a seat at the bar and orders an old fashioned. Tweek comes up to him as he does so, setting his elbow on the bar top and leaning into it. “Hey there,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a little sad that we haven’t gotten to talk much,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah… I mean, you’re pretty busy,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately so,” Tweek frowns. “But I promise that after the show, I’ll have plenty of time for you,” he winks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, he leaves him again. Once again, Craig has failed to flirt back in any way, shape or form, but Tweek still seems interested. So, he supposes </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good sign, at least. Craig takes a seat at the bar as Tweek struts away and hops on stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He watches intently as the band starts up. He originally planned to keep his eyes on Clyde because the thought of him in a rock band was an extremely entertaining one, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the keyboardist — how his body rocked with every press of the keys; how it wasn’t just his finger’s reaction, but a whole bodily reaction when he played a note.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The music could be the worst in the world, and Craig would be clueless to know. He is too enraptured with the blonde’s movements and the way his face contours with the passing of the song. He mouths some of the lyrics, and Craig decides he would do anything to hear him sing. Cartman is surprisingly not bad at vocals, but Craig is convinced Tweek would sound like an angel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels like he is  at some famous rock show, and not just his best friend’s band. He feels like he doesn’t deserve to see the way the blonde swipes his slightly wet bangs out of his eyes, and the way his tattooed sleeved arm flexes as he slams the keyboard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>hot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig finds himself stepping off his barstool and moving closer to the stage. A crowd has formed now; mostly </span>
  <em>
    <span>college girls. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He hears multiple bursts of conversation fawning over </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kenny, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but also a variety of other compliments about Tweek and Clyde. He does not hear anyone gush over the fat boy in front though which gives Craig immense satisfaction, but what gives Craig even </span>
  <em>
    <span>greater </span>
  </em>
  <span>satisfaction is when Tweek meets him in the eyes with a smirk and wink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart palpitates as he watches the blonde on stage whip his head around, his luscious curls swaying  back and forth. Craig wants to feel those curls on the tips of his fingertips; he longs to tug on those locks and feel them against his navel as the blonde’s lips wrap around his cock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels like he is a teenager again, back at the Panic! at the Disco concert, in awe and sweats over Brendon Urie. Except, it’s different this time because the musician in question knows of his existence and keeps giving him the </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is torn between wanting the show to end so he can talk to him, and wanting to experience this forever. He could watch Tweek all night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”Alright, fuck you, Boulder! Here’s our last song!” Cartman screams into the mic, much louder than necessary, causing an assortment of whines from the crowd. They launch into the last song, and Craig goes to grab another drink, feeling he needs a little more liquid courage to flirt back with the blonde sex symbol.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He orders a drink for Tweek too; making a presumption that he will be fine with a long island iced tea as that is what Craig gets. He doesn’t go back to the pit, as he has lost his spot, and he is not trying to get sandwiched between anymore girls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a final note and cheer, the band leaves the stage. Craig’s heart races as the blonde strides directly to him, wearing an impeccable smile; his hair slightly damp from sweat. Craig’s knees better not go out on him now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was impressive,” Craig hands in the drink. Tweek doesn’t question it but takes it with a small grateful smile before taking a sip. “You look really good up there,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You looked really good in the audience,” the blonde holds his smile. Craig feels his face go hot, but isn’t sure if it’s from the alcohol or flirting. “But I feel like you’d just look good anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could say the same thing about you,” he remarks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek sips his drink. “It was sweet of you to get me this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, “Keep  flirting and I’ll buy you some more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t worry, I was already planning on it,” Tweek raises another smirk as he sucks on the straw. Craig’s eyes fall down to his lips. He wonders what those lips feel like. He flicks his eyes up to the blonde and licks his lips. He struggles </span>
  <em>
    <span>again </span>
  </em>
  <span>with what to say, and takes another sip of his drink. Tweek laughs at him and says, “it’s so cute how flustered I’m making you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not flustered,” he lies, knowing that his face is damn well red as a beet. “I just didn’t know that Clyde had such hot bandmates, otherwise I would have come to a show sooner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was able to say something back. He smiles to himself at the small win.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, supporting your friend isn’t enough?” Tweek giggles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>supportive of Clyde, but in all honesty, all I could focus on was you,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The alcohol is for sure helping. He takes another gulp of it, keeping his eyes on the blonde who holds a small smile and lit up eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Tweek grins, stepping forward and grabbing the collar of his floral button-up. “What about me?” He asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig’s breath hitches at the new proximity. He glances down at the keyboardist’s fingers as they run down the collar of his shirt, his knuckles brazing against his open chest. He gulps, and chews on his bottom lip, eyeing his fingers still as he says, “just… how fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot </span>
  </em>
  <span>you are…,” his heart beat races in his chest as the blonde curls his fingers inside the fabric; his fingertips now grazing his flesh. Goosebumps form along his arms, his mouth suddenly very dry. He takes a sip of his drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re pretty hot too,” Tweek says in a chuckl. “But you want to know what was on </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>mind?” The blonde asks, taking another microscopic step further. He looks down at the dark-haired man with a smirk. “How much I would love to be deep inside of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig gulps. His mouth goes completely dry as he stares at the handsome man just centimeters away from his face. He can’t believe this is happening. His heart races as he says, “Uh, that sounds…,” he clears his throat, “really hot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek snickers, and runs his other hand along the nape of his neck, making him shiver. Always better with physical action than words, Craig leans forward and captures pink lips with his own. The blonde is immediate with his response, his palm moving over the flush of his chest and the other attaching to his waist. He grabs onto the blonde locks as he desperately wanted to do before, tugging and angling him in a way to deepen the kiss with more tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While normally it takes more than just a make-out session to send blood to his crotch, Tweek Tweak is an entirely different breed. His pants squeeze on him like a prison cell; all the blood in his cheeks before rushing to his cock. Tweek seems to sense this for he pulls his hand out from his shirt and slides it over his abdomenim, all the way to his heavy bulge. His thin fingers begin to trace the outline making Craig jerk and squirm under the touch, desperate to feel this hot keyboardist inside of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s lips drag off from his own, but Tweek has become a center of gravity for him, and he cannot bring his lips to separate from his hot flesh. He moves over to his neck, nibbling and assaulting his fair skin. This all feels like some kind of wet dream and he is determined to make his mark to prove its real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya know, the bathroom’s pretty big here and Kenny carries condoms and lube in his purse at all time,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are we still doing here then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek grants him a grin before running his hand along his arm and linking their hands. He shuffles their way through the crowd of women near Kenny. Craig is slightly confused when Tweek bypasses him, taking them on stage as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There, near Kenny's guitar is his purple purse though. Craig furrows his eyebrows together, “are we stealing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Borrowing,” Tweek corrects as he pulls a small bottle of lube out, along with a condom. Craig responds with a chuckle as Tweek once again, grabs his hand and guides him throughout the bar. There are two single bathrooms; one of them empty. Without even </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be conspicuous, Tweek pushes the door open for them to step inside. Tweek holds the door open for him as he steps inside, and then with a flick of the lock, Tweek’s lips are back on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within a minute, his head feels dizzy with pleasure. Tweek pushes them back so Craig is back against the sink. The blonde’s talented hands begin to unbutton his floral shirt, his palms once again against his beating chest. Craig fiddles with the other man’s belt, managing to unbuckle the lock. He pulls his head back to breathe out, “I want you now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A smile stretches out on his face as he asks, “Are you clean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek nods and presses his lips to his mouth again for a short lived, chaste kiss. He fiddles with the zipper on his own pants as Craig deals with his. He pushes his pants down and when he looks back up, Craig’s large cock is out and his pants have fallen to the ground. He smirks at this and pushes his own briefs down, unveiling his own hard cock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unexpectedly, Craig falls to the ground and takes him in his mouth for a few strokes, causing Tweek to let out a pleasurable moan, throwing his head back. He rakes his fingers through the raven locks and eyes the white bristle pad ceiling with half-lid eyes. His breath hitches as he tugs on the man’s locks, signaling for him to rise. He follows the signal and stands on his feet, pressing a few open-mouth kisses to his lips afterward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You taste so good,” Craig mumbles against his mouth. Tweek’s fingers ghost over the cock of the other man, before he grips the whole thing and begins to jerk him off, Craig squeezing his eyes shut upon his movements. Tweek smirks as he watches him, and then just as the other man had, he sinks onto his knees and pulls the swelling cock into his mouth. He bobs his head back and forth, the hard cock making him gag slightly as he takes on more of it. He pushes past it and continues until Craig mirrors his actions from before and tugs on his hair for him to rise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does so, wiping the extra saliva from his mouth and beaming into the ocean eyes of the dark-haired man. “Stop teasing me,” he whines, pushing their lower bodies together so their wet cocks touch. Craig thrusts their groins together, desperate for the man before him to enter him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to taste you too,” the blonde rasps, clinging onto the man before him and whispering into his ear. He presses his mouth to his ear before nibbling on his earlobe. Their cocks slide over each other, and someone on the outside of the bathroom says, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>hey what’s taking so long?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both snicker. Craig yells, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck off, use the other one!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which causes Tweek to snicker some more into his ear. He pulls back to say, “Guess you’re not the only one who’s impatient, huh?” He slides his hands over his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig snickers and places his lips over the blonde’s again, the feeling of pleasure coursing through his veins as all his blood drains into his cock. The blonde tugs on his lower lip as he pulls adrift. The forest meets the ocean as he meets the other man in the eyes. “I want to hear you say it,” he runs his hands over his shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That you want me to fuck you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig flushes, his heart dropping into his lead filled stomach as he whispers, “I want you to fuck me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek smirks. “All you had to do was ask, honey,” he presses his lips over the other’s mouth for one last open-mouth kiss before he whispers, “now turn around and bend over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig grins as he maneuvers his body around, bending over the sink so his ass and balls are on display. The keyboardist’s hands plant over his ass cheeks as he thrusts his hips forward, the head of his cock hitting against his flesh, causing little whimpers of desperation to fall from Craig’s mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek grabs the silicon lube off the sink, which he had previously placed, and Craig’s heart races as he hears the bottle snap open. He watches in the mirror as the blond covers his fingers with the substance, his cock still edging the side of his ass cheek. With a lubricated finger, he rims the dark-haired-man’s asshole, making his whole body feel as though it's made of Jell-o.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he slips his finger inside, Craig gasps, shutting his eyes as the blonde angles his finger forward, curling it in the line of his dick. He continues to pant as the blonde finds his the small round ball of his g-spot and begins to prod against it. Craig grabs onto the sink with more of a grip than before, his dick twitching between his legs. His face contours as the blonde continues to rub his finger against his g-spot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looks like I found the magic spot,” Tweek leans over him and whispers into his ear. Craig just nods his head, his brain too diluted with pleasure to make out a reasonable sound other than a soft moan. Without asking, Tweek pushes another finger in, making Craig gasp again and breathe out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>as the other finger aids with the prodding of his g-spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He holds on tightly to the sink, biting his lower lip. With his other hand, Tweek runs his fingers through his dark locks and presses a gentle kiss to the back of his neck. Craig is sure his whole body is covered with goosebumps. No one has ever found his g-spot this easily before. Usually it took a lot more of prodding to discover it but the keyboardist </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew how to use his fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so hot, baby,” he hears a whisper in his ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to touch his dick, but he knows that if he did, he will instantly come so instead he says, “put more in,” and Tweek does so, slipping another inside. The sensation is fucking impeccable and he feels like he is going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>explode </span>
  </em>
  <span>with pleasure. Every nerve in his body is on fire, and only continues to </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as another finger slips in — Tweek now at four. His dick jerks so hard he almost fears it will fall off. He grinds his body against Tweek’s, small moans refusing to stay put in the confines of his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, okay, fuck — I need,” his words fall into a loud moan as the other man pushes hard against his g-spot. His whole entire stomach contents roll over like a tidal wave; any sense of the English dictionary is gone and replaced with pleasurable sounds as he continues in his movement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you need?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh— </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, ugh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he manages to sputter out, barely managing to breathe let alone speak. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hears a tiny, breathless snicker from the man and then, to both his disappointment and gratitude, the blonde pulls his fingers out. Craig sucks in a breath through his mouth as he does so and opens his eyes to meet green lustful eyes reflecting in the mirror. He watches as the man grabs the condom wrapper and pulls it open with his teeth; the sight makes him sweat. After ripping it open, he slides it onto his large cock, and grabs onto Craig’s hips, thrusting forward so the tip of his cock meets the rim of his asshole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig’s breath hitches, desperate to feel the pressure against his g-spot once again. He rocks his ass against the blonde’s cock and with that, the blonde thrusts forward, first in gentle, small thrusts with just his head, but slowly he picks up the pace and goes deeper. He angles his cock so that with every thrust, it hits his g-spot. Craig melts under the immaculate pleasure riveting throughout his entire body. He nearly trembles and has to </span>
  <em>
    <span>force </span>
  </em>
  <span>his legs from turning into complete goo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hears the blonde say as he grinds their hips together, repeating his thrusts in a rhythm that Craig swears only a musician could ever perfect so well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sounds Tweek makes, too, are music to his ears. He didn’t think this situation could possibly get any hotter until he heard him begin to moan. He is so loud and expressive, uncaring of what those behind the bathroom door think. It’s a performance of its own, listening to Tweek Tweak moan and yell and huff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig’s dick </span>
  <em>
    <span>aches </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pains </span>
  </em>
  <span>with desire for release, but he dares to not touch it, for he knows the second he does, he will explode. So he waits until Tweek gives him the signal, but he doesn’t. Instead, he  grabs onto Craig’s cock himself, jerking him off along to his thrusts. With just a few strokes and spasm of his cock, he comes all over the sink. He deflates into elastic euphoria, panting and heart racing. He can’t open his eyes, even though he desperately wants to see the face of the blonde as he reaches his own orgasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde’s breathing stifles, his body jerking. Craig feels the hot liquid of his cum within the condom and he forces his eyes open to watch. Just as he expected, it’s hotter than he ever could imagine. The way the blonde man’s face contorts upon the orgasm is pornographic on it’s own. He takes a mental image of the visual, knowing he will come back to it at least a hundred times after this experience.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek pulls out with a large sigh and slams his body against the man in front of him, wrapping his arms around him. His skin is scorching hot and clammy but he does not mind it. He is definitely one to crave physical affection after sex.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek pulls the condom off and throws it into the nearby garbage, still placing a large portion of his body weight on the man in front of him. Tweek presses a kiss onto the side of his neck and Craig leans into it, feeling the tickle of blonde hair against the crook of his neck. He inhales, wanting to remember the smell of his shampoo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek pulls away first and Craig turns around to meet him in the eyes. He places his hand into the blonde’s messed up hair and pushes his hand through it. “That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking good. Can I be your groupie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek bites onto his bottom lip to stop his smile from expanding too far. “I promise you, if you keep coming to these shows, there will definitely be more of this,” he begins to button-up the dark-haired man’s shirt, a smile of content on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I just found my new favorite band, then,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek snickers as he pats him on the chest. “Get your clothes back on. We need to return Kenny’s lube before he murders us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Us? You stole it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you used it, so I think we are both pretty guilty here,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig rolls his eyes but holds a smile at the coy blond. They both pull their pants back on and clean themselves up. Craig does his best to clean up the sink, but he seriously feels bad for anyone who uses it tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They leave the bathroom looking slightly more disheveled than before, and return the lube to Kenny, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>apparently </span>
  </em>
  <span>was looking all over for it. Tweek and Craig share an amused glance at this, and Craig does not fail to notice the blush that coats Clyde's face as he says it. He also does not fail to notice that shortly after their return, Clyde and Kenny disappear for a half-hour, only to return later with the same disheveled look Tweek and Craig share. Craig will </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>be talking about this with his roommate later, but for right now, he just enjoys the presence of the ethereal blonde, still feeling high from their time in the bathroom.</span>
</p>
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